An Open Letter
Dear Reader,
I would like to extend a hearty welcome to you, and to make a promise. I had written and edited quite a bit before I undertook to help you write better term papers. In fact, I had and still have rather high hopes of rescuing such papers from the second-class citizenship they are often accorded in language composition courses. I realize full well that there is not much that is overtly exciting about research-oriented projects. Personally, I prefer to write short stories and poems. But through the years, I have had to turn out term papers that do not have the more accessible, warm feelings that come when you complete even a very dark piece of fiction. I worked my way through the chilly diligence of such papers and found that the waters of objective evidence were not entirely frigid. I came to appreciate a side of myself that is possibly mature enough to find a sense of accomplishment in writing that is at a distance from fiction and poetry. I still prefer to write creatively, but I would be hard pressed to separate what I might have called, at one point, the grain from the chaff. They have become intertwined in my mind. And who am I to say that that is an undesirable condition? Now that I am done with the task of assembling a growing body of material, I believe that this book is more expansive yet forthright than any I have seen on Academic Writing. It is indeed tentatively that I call this work a "definitive" treatment of term papers, including preformulations. I might as well go one step further and recommend that this book be the primary text in writing courses, particularly when used in conjunction with Creative Writing in College: Stories, Poems, Plays, Essays and Term Papers. I will include term papers because they are a meaningful form of developing ideas with the rigor of the academy. I believe that they have as much right to be there as does any other kind of writing that explores the human soul. Having completed work on this present first volume, I will begin assembling, writing and revising the second. You are hereby invited to join me if you like. I said that I would make you a promise, and here it is: I promise to do my utmost—in every page of this book--to help you develop, to the highest degree possible, skills in argumentation and articulation. In my opinion, they are important to you as a human being. They constitute much of “Cognitive Awareness,” which is the ability to rise above yourself and find your sharpest, most balanced point of reasoning and morality. Often that point is distinct from feeling. Your guts and the way you were brought up might well tell you that your own native way is best and that anyone who does not agree with you is short-sighted. Don’t listen to your guts. Listen to the clear voice in your head. It has access to the higher harmony of Cognitive Awareness, which is you thinking about thinking. If whatever process I describe here helps you to do that, then it will have indeed been worth the months I have spent on this book. “No man is an island,” John Donne said with immaculate precision. And to see the continent of the self, we have to cognitively lift ourselves by our bootstraps. That is the only way to get the vantage point we all so desperately need. So, welcome it is. I am glad to have you aboard. Sincerely, Clyde Coreil
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